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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198071">the things i could never say</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hero_she_deserves/pseuds/the_hero_she_deserves'>the_hero_she_deserves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Female Character, Childhood Memories, Developing Relationship, F/F, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Future Foundation (Dangan Ronpa), Gay, Getting to Know Each Other, How Do I Tag, Love, Made For Each Other, Memories, POV Fukawa Toko, Partnership, Post-Canon, Sappy, Scars, Secret Crush, Sexual Tension, Showers, Sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:01:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hero_she_deserves/pseuds/the_hero_she_deserves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The irony here is that I’m gifted with words when I’m writing, but speaking… <br/>I’m not so great at.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fukawa Toko POV.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fukawa Touko &amp; Naegi Komaru, Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the things i could never say</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Toko just has so many feelings and thoughts about Komaru, but none of them ever make their ways sincerely out of her mouth. So, here, have a fic where I cover that for you. And yes, I spell it without the 'u' even though the tags spell it with the 'u'. </p>
<p>Rated M for Mature because.... they're showering together and there are mentions of fantasies.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The water rushes down over us.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way. I’m not just speaking to the emotions flowing inside of me so deeply, so restlessly they could be oceans, but, I’m speaking quite literally. The water pouring down over us from the nozzle isn’t something I’m used to. My hair is drenched and heavy because of it. It’s pulling on my head in a fashion I find less than desirable. It’s seriously annoying.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I don’t see why I have to be here. I am standing, naked, in my own personal rain storm, shivering because of the vent that’s placed ever so inconveniently above me. And yet, for all my troubles, I know I can’t run away.</p>
<p class="p1">This is necessary, after all. Not that I mind, really, if she’s here. Even if this whole bathing thing is absolutely detestable, her being here… helps.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">The water rushes down her body too. I can see the little droplets bubble into crystal clear blobs that gradually find rest at her feet. Her hair is soaked too, but it’s much shorter and must not weigh as much over her head. Lucky.</p>
<p class="p1">Why am I stuck with the misfortune of having such long hair? And she’d tell me to cut it; yeah, as if it were that simple. I can’t just cut my hair, not even if I tried.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">My eyes watch as she glides her hand through her hair. It slicks back with ease and her hands fall back to her sides, and her eyes open to look at me. They’re green, just like <b>his</b>. They’re big and innocent, and I really can’t take them staring at me like that any longer, so I force myself to look away. After all, when you have orbs like that, you put grassy meadows on the edge of paradise to shame - not that she has to know that, though.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">I can hardly resist the warmth that rushes to my face. It’s a natural reaction, after all. If it’s going to happen, I’ll let it happen. I can always play it off as the steam from the shower, anyway. She sighs, and I swear I can smell spearmint on the air. Her breath always did smell divine. She smiles at me, and from my periphery I can see this blurry vision of white against pale. I know she’s smiling at me, and I know it’s causing the rhythm in my heart to speed up.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I don’t need to give it away by returning the look.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Excuse me, Toko. I need to grab the loofah.” Her voice echoes. For a moment, I wonder if she knows the meaning of the word ‘soft’ or ‘quiet’. Her shrill voice could pierce through anything, give it the chance. But, the reverberations of her voice bouncing off the walls isn’t unpleasant to hear. To me, at least.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I shuffle to the side enough that she can grab it. Normally, I’d dream up this kind of stuff about Byakuya and me. What she was living with me, right now, seemed like a fantasy come true. You know, if you replace the short brunette with this tall drink of water of a man, blond-haired and blue-eyed and absolutely perfect in every way. Normally, in the off chance I’d be doing this by myself, I’d have at least three that would faze through my mind. But, with her here, not one has come to me. Not one lousy fantasy, not one dirty thought.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">She pours the body wash onto the loofah and smears the soap over her skin. I know she’s doing it all slow like that to prove a point - it’s probably to show me how to do it, as if I don’t know how - but, something about the way it spreads across her and blocks the most private parts of her from view is tantalizing to me. It makes me want to see more, though I’ve already seen enough climbing into the shower with her. My eyes are hungry and cannot be satiated with bubbles alone; it needs to go beyond that.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">She looks at me, suddenly and I blush and quickly force my eyes away. My fingers come to point against one another. I know she doesn’t really get it, but I can’t have her commenting about how I was just staring at her. It’s not that she’d think I was weird or anything, because she’s made it clear she’s never thought that of me - and anyway, she’s… stranger than I am, for reading manga about a bomb inside of a girl - but, something in her eyes draws me back anyway. And this time, I <em>am </em>looking at her eyes. I swear.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Is something wrong, Toko? You know… besides the fact that I’m forcing you to bathe?” She stops the hand with the loofah, for a moment. Even though I’m keeping my eyes trained on her stare, that doesn’t mean that some sub-section of my mind isn’t <em>begging </em>her to continue. And no, I am not above begging for something.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I growl, just a bit. “N-Nothing is wrong. Geez, you keep looking at me like I’m a sick puppy like that and I’m leaving.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“No! No no no! Don’t leave.” She says, perhaps a little too quickly. A blush also rests on her face now. Oh ho ho, have I hit a nerve, Komaru?  “I mean… I’d like you to stay in here with me. I know bathing sucks, but you only have to do it for a little longer. Besides, I needed a shower myself, so I figured we could take one together, right? We’re both girls, after all, so it’s not like either one of us has anything to hide.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She is a normal, unreliable girl who needs to get a clue.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I hesitate, but eventually let the breath I was holding go. “F-Fine. I’ll stay. But it’s only b-because I want to look my very best when Master comes to greet m-me.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You mean like… in your dreams, or…?” Komaru turns her back and begins scrubbing again with the loofah, remarking in such a soft mumble, I nearly don’t hear her. </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“N-No I don’t mean in my dreams! How insensitive of you to say that. Master Byakuya will be so pleased that I’ve actually cared enough about my appearance to c-clean up for him that he’ll reward me with a kiss. And when he does, I-I’ll ask him to stay for dinner. And then we’ll g-go to bed together, and we’ll c-conceive our very first child right then and there!” I know I’m a little overdone in the description of what I can only hope will happen, but sometimes you have to force a fantasy out of you. </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">Anyway.... leave me alone, a girl can dream, can’t she?</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Komaru just giggles as she smears the loofah underneath her breasts. My eyes watch with peeled interest. Not that she’s aware; she has her back turned to me.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the fact that you smell more like a person instead of a… well, a junk Monokuma.” She answers. But, I have nothing to say to that.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">How does <em>she </em>know what Master prefers? Still, I can’t deny that she’s right. Master probably has very particular tastes, and it’s to be expected, after all. He is a man of nobility and grace.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The loofah slides down the curves of her body and eventually caress over her hip and the very top part of her thigh. It stops again. Come on, doesn’t she know by now the proper washing etiquette? Hasn’t she read enough borders-on-the-questionable manga, or even a doujinshi - trash that it is - to know that she’s supposed to just keep lathering no matter what? She’s seriously depriving me of great fantasy material here.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s not until my eyes scan back up from where they were watching her hand to her shoulders that I notice she’s turned her head to look at me. There’s this innocent look in her eyes, and from what I can see of her cheek, an embarrassed blush that makes her look like a schoolgirl with a crush.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Oh shoot, um.” She pauses. “Toko, I forgot to wash my back. Do you think you could get it for me?” The loofah is being handed to me.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Y-Yeah, I guess.” I take it. What choice do I have anyway? Is Komaru just <em>not </em>going to have an unwashed back?</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">Well, I for one, have read many a literary masterpiece where this scene becomes a gateway for more involved ones later on in the book. If I’m lucky, perhaps that what will happen here. No, it’d better happen. I’m not just wasting my time here in this rainfall of hell just to not be paid back in full for my suffering.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">My hand slowly begins to spread the soap along her skin. I can just barely feel through the fabric of it that Komaru’s skin is really soft. Like, unnaturally soft. For a moment, I think I’m jealous of how she appears to have no blemishes, or rough patches, and that it’s so silky smooth, but quickly that thought is interrupted. It’s beautiful, really. The complexion that defines not just how flawless it appears, but also its color is more than I could ever begin to write about. I can smell the soap from a mile away too. It’s got one of those really strong fragrances; the kind that you walk by in the store and think is obnoxious. But, I’d be lying if I said, it didn’t… cause my stomach to erupt in these flutterings I can only interpret to be butterflies.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s either that or it’s lurching my stomach from how sweet it smells.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I find my eyes fixated on the curve of her back and how it seems so perfect, right down the center. It’s seriously unfair the way some people are made. I’m not sure if God has anything to do with it, or the universe, or if it’s just random, but girls like Komaru should not be allowed to associate with girls like me. We’re in two separate sub-classes of human. Much less, should we be allowed to do this - shower together.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">I wonder, for a moment, as I’m trailing the loofah down her back in gentle strokes, what Komaru ever did see in me. Yeah, she’s called me her friend for a while now, but that isn’t what I mean. What could she have possibly seen in me, from even the beginning, that made her think I was worth anything more than… well, being some kind of intern for Future Foundation?</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I wonder… Komaru…. what you think of me…</p>
<p class="p1">Do you think so much of me that you… would allow me to…</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She giggles and it snaps me away from my thoughts.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Tokooooo, that ticklesssss.” I’m not aware of it, but the fingers of my other hand have started tracing patterns down the centerline of her back. Along the curve which I find so perfect, it’s just ridiculous.</p>
<p class="p1">I don’t know whether to apologize or to just take my hand away. I think I’m about to do that latter when something catches my attention.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Perhaps Little Miss Perfect Body isn’t so perfect, after all.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">There is a mark just above her tailbone. It looks like it’s a scar. Curiosity consumes me and I move my fingertips just to brush over it, lightly. I mean, who wouldn’t, in my position, right?</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She knows what I’m touching and the tone of her voices changes just as quickly as her expression does. I’m looking at her tailbone so I can’t see what her face has morphed into, but I know that, whatever this came from, couldn’t have been a happy memory. I don’t need to say anything to prompt her to tell me the story.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, yeah, that. Looks like you’ve found my scar.” Her voice keeps its tone of jubilance, but only barely.“Yeah, that’s from a long time ago now.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">This time, I do say something.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“W-Well hey, if you’d rather not talk about it. It’s none of my business. I can j-just…” I start to say, but Komaru shakes her head.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Mm-mm. It’s okay.” A pause. “I’ll tell you how I got the scar. It doesn’t hurt to talk about, after all.” A soft smile graces her features again. It’s not a full one because I don’t see any teeth, but just the curve of her lips is enough to ease me back into listening. I give a small nod of my head.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Back when I was maybe 8 or 9, I was learning to ride my bike for the first time. My dad was helping me. And I remember he told me he was going to let go, and that I would have to pedal on my own.” She recounts, but I can’t help but guess where this is going.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Let me guess. You fell straight on your butt after your dad let go, and fell so hard too, that you hit the ground and rolled a little bit, and maybe even into a tree? <em>That’s </em>where this mark comes from? What a typical story-…” I nearly get through my sentiment, but she interrupts me too.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I got it because a spirit appeared just as he let go. I saw it. It was coming straight at me, and I didn’t know what to do. I pedaled by myself for a little bit, but when I went to swerve, the spirit disappeared. I lost my balance and fell. The bike fell on top of me. It gave me a pretty nasty cut right along the bottom part of my back and dug into that spot just above my tailbone. Thankfully, nothing was broken, but I remember being sore for a long time. After that, I didn’t want to try riding a bike again till I was 13.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">A pause, because wow, that story is messed up.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Sure, blame your lack of coordination on a supernatural spirit that came to visit you so you don’t seem as pathetic.” I roll my eyes.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I’m telling you that’s what happened!” She cries. Somehow, I do believe her. “Anyway, I couldn’t make sense of the spirit until much later on, either. I always just thought they were imaginary things only I could see when I was kid, but as I got older, I realized they were spirits.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“And you didn’t try bike riding again till you were 13?” I choose to ignore that comment and ask that question instead.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, go on and tell me how pathetic that is that I didn’t really know how to ride a bike till I was 13….” She trails off with a breath hanging through her words, almost like she sighed. That isn’t what I’m going to do at all.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“No, I was just going to say… I understand. Geez, you don’t know me at all.” I remark in a soft grumble. She should know me well enough by now to know that I don’t actually mean that.  “Having a traumatic e-experience and then n-not being able to d-do something because of it i-is something I get. Trust me.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Her eyes morph into something sweeter. In them, for the moment I look, I see thankfulness. I manage a smile of my own. It isn’t often it comes around, but with Komaru… that could easily be made into a lie.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I-If you want to remember this scar as t-the Pathetic Bike Riding Incident of 2006, t-then I won’t stop you. But…” I trail, thinking about how I want to word this. Still my fingertips have not moved from where they are, just grazing the scar on her back. “….i-it really can’t be all that pathetic, can it? I-I mean… it helped make you i-into the person you are today. And if I can say anything about her, it’s that y-you’re not pathetic. You’ve proven that much.”The irony here is that I’m gifted with words when I’m writing, but speaking… I’m not so great at.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I groan. Clearly that sentiment didn’t read like I wanted it to. Komaru turns in my direction and takes my hands, instead. It’s enough to snap me away from my thoughts once more, and this time, the smile on her face is genuine. It’s wide and I can see her teeth again, which may as well be so bright, they’re hurting my eyes. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s this close to me, I don’t think I’d have been able to see much. Not without my glasses, anyway.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Wha- hey. W-What’s all this for, all of a sudden?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You have no idea how much that means to me, Toko. Thank you.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“W-What are you getting all sentimental for?” I tear my hands away and look off and down again, blush ever present on my face. If this keeps up, I may faint right here.“I j-just said what anyone else in my position would say. Geez, you sentimental types have t-to go and ruin everything with your cheesy ‘thank yous’. T-This is why I don’t read m-manga.” I grumble.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She chuckles again. “Say what you want, Toko. I know you meant what you said. And for the record, you can be sentimental yourself. …When you want to be.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I’m offended. But… she’s absolutely right. She knows me well enough by now to know that I’m a mush too. I just… am not so showy about it.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Whatever.” I trail. “I-Isn’t it high time we stop talking about t-this…?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She giggles, and again I don’t understand the joke. Then again, maybe I don’t need to. As long as that laugh sounds, I know things are alright. That laugh has carried me through some pretty heavy things, and I’d be lying if I said… it wasn’t literal music to my ears. Like that, I know the subject is dropped.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">I don’t think I’d ever be able to talk like this with Master. No… nothing like this. And I know I shouldn’t even be thinking that way. This is Komaru’s special thing with me - our ability to talk.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I have never had that with anyone.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Then again, I’ve never shared a shower with anyone either. So… there’a a first for everything. Still, with her here, I’ve forgotten all about the dread of bathing. With that story of the scar, I find the heaviness of my head and how displeased I am just melts away. My irritation loses all importance, and what replaces it becomes her. The new importance places into this moment. This moment with Komaru. </p>
<p class="p1">She and her flawless skin don’t ever give me a break, do they? It’s really annoying that I have to stand here in the unfairness of it all. It’s really an injustice…</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">… The way she undoes me every single time.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">Sure, her eyes may be the same color as <b>his</b>. Her brother - Makoto’s eyes are the same weird green. But Komaru’s are different. Makoto’s never looked at me like she does. Byakuya… as much as it pains me to say, has never looked at me this way either. There’s something different in them, something undefinable that you won’t find in the Ultimate Hope’s eyes, no matter how much you search.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">There’s something in her giggle that just isn’t present when I’m in the company of Master. The moment is remiss for something more that isn’t absent with Komaru. I don’t know what it is, but it’s overflowing with this girl. Komaru could never compare to the perfection that is Byakuya Togami. She’s nowhere close. The list of her imperfections goes on forever, including one I just learned about - the scar.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But, she doesn’t have to compare to him. In this world, I’ve learned quite a few things; one of those things is that imperfection can be beautiful. And Komaru? She wears her imperfections perfectly.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">So, even if she is irritating and sentimental and strange and unreliable, and totally needs to get a clue - she’s an experience I will always protect. I find I can’t stay mad at her - and who could? Especially when the inconsistencies and the flaws in her character are also the things that make her beautiful.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">I’ve been remiss my whole life at something that just seemed missing from it. An empty piece of myself that couldn’t be filled no matter what. Byakuya helps, but… the hole is still there. Eating at me. Gnawing at me. Reminding me that I may never find the thing that fills it in. </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">I suppose she’s no Byakuya Togami.</p>
<p class="p1">But… with Komaru, at least…</p>
<p class="p1">I feel whole.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She doesn’t have a clue.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Okay, it’s your turn, Toki.” She says happily as she grabs the loofah from me.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She doesn’t know how the water cascades over me, pooling deeper and deeper into a well in my heart, I can’t very well plug up now. She doesn’t get it.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” I grumble softly, but she knows I don’t mean it.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">And maybe… it’d be perfect for it to stay this way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well.... <br/>I gave it my best try. This was originally going in another direction in my head, but I'm actually kind of weirdly satisfied with the way it ended up. It was fun to write, and so I'm hoping it will be just as much enjoyed when read.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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